


Anything To Get Out Of Dancing

by SleepingReader



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:28:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingReader/pseuds/SleepingReader
Summary: The Kingdom of Katolis is hosting a ball for visitors from one of the other kingdoms.General Amaya thinks that some of those visitors don't deserve balls.Well.Maybe a swift kick in them.And since we're on the subject, which impractical idiot picked out this dress?Oh, right. Her sister. The Queen.Whom she promised she'd dance with one person that night.Damn.





	Anything To Get Out Of Dancing

_Another ball,_ Amaya thought in the private space of the dressing-room, as she attempted to hoist herself into a dress. _Because visitors from other kingdoms deserved balls?_ The Queen of the kingdom was alright, but Amaya had visited the arriving councilmen herself once, and was pretty sure they didn’t deserve any balls. Well. Possibly a swift kick in them.  
She wrestled with the buttons on the back of her dress. It was a borrowed one, one from her sister, who insisted: _’This one time, Amaya. Just put on a dress and dance with one person. We need our militia represented, too.’_   
General Amaya wished that she hadn’t told her sister that she could feel the beat.   
Wished that she hadn’t told her that yes, Amaya _could_ dance, even while not being able to hear the music.   
Anything to get out of dancing.

She couldn’t disobey an direct order from her queen, though. _Even if that queen was a sister with no practicality in dresses,_ she thought, as the attempted to close a button near the small of her back.  
Sure, she was incredible in combat, sturdy and swift. But not agile.   
‘ _Save the agility for the Elves_ ’ she had always said. Stupid. Stupid ball. Stupid dress. Stupid buttons.  
As she thought that, a button broke. It fell on the floor. She made a rude gesture at it, one of those gestures that Gren wouldn’t translate.   
With the gesture, one of the sleeves ripped. A large tear, going from her elbow to her shoulder.  
She stepped forward to pick up the button and stepped on the hem of the dress, which also ripped.   
She bent over to examine the rip and caused another to open at the back.  
General Amaya frowned and took off the remainder of the dress. She examined it. It had been a pretty one, pure black with green edges and fringes. Now it looked more like a carriage wreck.  
_I’ll just go in armour_ , _s_ he thought to herself, picking up the remainder of the dress. She went into the room in her underclothing, thinking she might find some armour polish there at least.   
Amaya was just thinking of how nice it would be not to have to dance while wearing armour. Anything to get out of dancing.   
Then she sensed that she was not alone.  
She glanced at the door. It was open. Careless. Foolish.

Amaya edged forward. She knew through her interpreter that she was noisy when she wore armour, but they had trained together to walk quietly when not.  
She rounded the corner to her bed. The intruder stood with his back to her. Idiot.  
Amaya was about to pounce when the intruder shook his hair out of his eyes. His ginger hair.  
Gren.  
Amaya stood still, utterly confused. Why was Gren in her room? Did they have an appointment? A meeting?  
But Gren simply seemed to be laying something out on the bed. His lips were pursed. He must have been whistling.  
Gren nodded to the bed, satisfied with his job. He turned.  
And jumped about two feet into the air. His mouth opened in what could only be a surprised shout.  
He saw what she was wearing, and immediately averted his eyes and began signing apologies. She stopped him.

_’Firstly: I could have killed you.’_ she signed, putting the small knife back. _’Secondly: What are you doing?’_ she asked, trying to look around him at the bed. He blocked her. He had been taller than her ever since they met, but now he wore armour and she didn’t, he seemed broader, too.

_’I thought you weren’t back from your meeting with the queen yet, so I thought… Well, I thought that you might need something to wear tonight?’_ He signed back, his hands quick and nervous.  
_’Technically, I did have something to wear.’_ She signed, laughter in her eyes as she showed him the teared dress. _’Buttons are a menace.’_ she added.  
He grinned at that.  
_’I know. That’s why I found this for you’_ He told her, pointing to the bed. _’I was going to pretend that the gnomes put it there, but…’_ He paused. _’See for yourself.’_ He stepped aside.  
Amaya walked around him.

Spread out on the bed, ready to be put on, was a tunic made of flexible, soft-looking blue wool, with a light yellow trim around the edges. She smiled when she saw the pattern of her armour reflected in the design. The tunic had a v-shaped neck, and short sleeves. As she touched it, she could confirm that it was indeed soft.  
The belt of her own armour lay curled beside it, polished and with a new buckle. A miniature form of the Standing Battalion’s General shield.  
Next to the tunic and the belt lay a pair of trousers, not unlike her own, but a gentle brown.  
Underneath was a pair of sturdy-looking but elegant black boots, that matched her belt.  
She knew perfectly well that Gren could never have just found something like this for her. It must have cost a lot of money.

Amaya started to turn around to tell him off for spending so much money on her, but she caught the look in his eyes.  
It was one she had seen many times, but could never truly understand. A gentle compassion, of someone who could one day be more than a friend. She didn’t even try to deny it anymore, but they were still a long ways from there.

_’Do you like it? Because I can still pretend that the gnomes brought it, right?’_ Gren signed at her.  
She answered by pulling him into a hug.  
When they broke apart, she signed ' _Thank you'_ to him. He bowed his head in acknowledgement. She didn’t ask how he did it, or where he got the money from. He would tell her in his own time.  
Commander Gren left her to dress, instead.

….

During dinner, General Amaya remembered why she rather enjoyed balls. The birds that were served were shot fresh that morning. The potatoes baked and covered with salt and garlic butter. And to make everything better: Callum and Ezran were allowed to attend the meal. Together with Gren she talked about their studies and hobbies. Gren performed some soft bird-whistles and Ezran clapped. Amaya noticed that her voice had ever so subtly matched his own outfit with hers, the blue bringing out his eyes.

During the dancing, Amaya remembered why she _didn’t_ enjoy balls. Ezran had been sent to bed. Callum had disappeared, probably to avoid dancing. Gren was lost to the crowd.   
The drums of the musicians were vibrations in her bones. The fiddle, the lute and the flute completely silent. People were dancing in a circle on the floor. All around, women were asked to dance by hopeful looking men.   
She felt a gaze on her. It wasn’t Gren’s, so she met it head-on and dared it to go away. The councilman from the other kingdom gazed down again, only to gaze back up.  
Amaya rolled her eyes and tried to become one with the tapestry she stood against.  
Anything to get out of dancing.

But it was to no avail. A hand appeared in front of her eyes. Attached to it was the same councilman from the other kingdom. His eyes reminded Amaya of Lord Viren, but the weak chin hidden by a badly kept beard reminded her of a butcher trying to impress his clients.  
Still, Sarai had requested she danced one dance.  
_Very well._ She thought, and nodded curtly to the man. His breath smelled of stale wine, but she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, where he started in a slow waltz.  
_So they’re playing a waltz,_ she thought vaguely, as he spun her around. He began talking to her. She almost closed her eyes, but reigned in her annoyance to read his lips instead.  
‘My dear General, you must have noticed that our eyes caught many times across the room.’ He began. The words were slurred and unsteady. The scent of wine and other liquors were stronger now he was closer.

_If you can call staring at women ‘capturing eyes’, then yes_ , Amaya thought, glaring at him. He simply continued talking.  
Odd. Glaring was usually enough. It was surely enough to make an entire battalion fall to their knees and do twenty push-ups. The only people she knew could meet her stare were her sister, who had a fierce gaze of her own, and Ezran, who didn't bother a lot with being afraid of Amaya.   
  
She raised her hands to begin signing at the man. Maybe to make a rude gesture, one that he _could_ understand. But he held her hands down to continue the dance. She was distracted by this insubordination, so missed a bit as he talked again, the wine on his breath giving him liquid courage.  
‘…singled you out as my partner for tonight, and for many other nights as well…’  
_Ah, there we go._ Amaya thought happily, and raised her foot to step on his. He winced when the sturdy boot came down, but put it down to a misstep. She tried to raise her hands again to speak, but he once again put them down. She was strong, but the liquor had made him sluggishly stronger.

She tore them away from him, but the councilman took one of her hands in both of his own, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear…  
He so loved it when the women didn’t talk back.  
A hand on his shoulder got him out of his reverie. Gren tore him away from Amaya, freeing her hands. The councilman, unsteady on his feet with wine and liquor, fell to the floor.

Gren raised his left hand to his chest and bowed to Amaya. A formal greeting. Then he took his familiar place by her side, though a bit closer than normal.  
She fixated her glare upon the councilman once again and raised her hands to sign at him as Gren translated. She felt from the timbre in his voice through the air that he was as angry as she was.

‘Sir,’ the tall ginger man said, voice barely contained with rage. ‘If you believe that staring at a lady across a room counts as _flirting_ , then you have made the worst mistake of your life. Especially when that woman is me.’  
The councilman should have seen that the two soldiers clearly outnumbered him. And yet he took offence against Gren, who so clearly had disturbed his conversation. He clambered to his feet and swung a right hook towards the red-haired offender.  
Amaya took one step to the side to stand in front of Gren. She quickly deflected the councilman’s fist using a crooked arm, turning her body so the councilman was once again caught off-balance.   
With the dedication of he truly drunk, he straightened himself. Swung again, aiming for Gren’s ribs, but Amaya placed her hand at the crook of his elbow and pressed down. The blow landed short. She twisted her hips ever so slightly to give her arm more room. Using the momentum the turn had given her, she punched the man right between the eyes.  
He kept standing. Amaya turned slightly to Gren and signed _’Timber’_. Then she gently pushed the councilman.  
He fell over like a tree in the forest.

General Amaya turned back to meet Queen Sarai’s furious eyes with a glare of her own.

After a thorough chewing-out, Amaya was able to explain to her sister what had happened. Apparently, Amaya was the first one to have notified someone of his behaviour. Several servant girls testified against him not five minutes later. Harrow and the other Queen were informed. The man was not only banned from Katolis, but from his own kingdom as well.  
‘There is no room in my kingdom for men like you.’ His own Queen had told him, when he had recovered enough to walk to his own chariot.

….

Amaya looked at the large clockwork in the middle of the ballroom. It wasn’t even midnight yet. She turned to look beside her, where Gren was trying as hard as she was to fade into the tapestry behind them.  
_’And I thought soldiers were so social.’_ She signed to him. He smiled.  
_’We both know that my idea of a nice evening is to read a book near the fire.’_ He replied. She grinned at him.  
_’And darning socks.’_ she told him, remembering a time where he had been practising needlework near the fireplace while all the other soldiers had been bragging about their adventures.  
  
_’Yes,_ he said simply. _’At home too. Anything to get out of dancing. All I can do is a T-A-H-R-O, and it’s dreadful.’_  
She inquired if that was the dumb dance where someone put a rose between their teeth. He told her that it was.  
She grinned and took a flower from a nearby hanging plant.  
_’Show me.’_  
And he did. He blushed twenty different types of red, but he pulled her towards the dance floor, and he did.

While they danced the strange flower dance they found that both of them were in tune to the others movement. Amaya couldn’t hear the music, but felt the beat. Gren heard the music, but had no rhythm whatsoever.   
They never fell into step with the other dancers. They bumped into other couples. Yet the energy and the happiness that exuded from the two was apology enough for anyone offended.   
Gren found out that twirling was fun, so was twirled relentlessly by Amaya. Amaya herself found out that she liked bumping into other couples very much, so Gren ‘accidentally’ helped her with that.  
Amaya’s tunic flowed slightly around her legs, while Gren’s well-made blue-yellow coat stayed still.

They continued to dance, their energy ever present. Dancing slowly at fast numbers, dancing quickly at slow ballads. Gren even translated one of the songs for her into sign, which turned out to be about seaweed.  
Before either of them knew it, it was after midnight. But their dance continued. Turning, twisting, twirling on the dance floor, even after most of the couples had retired.

On the thrones near the far wall, King Harrow and Queen Sarai sat watching the disastrous couple.  
‘Told you I could get her to dance.’ Sarai told her husband, who reluctantly handed her a bag of coins.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing but I think I enjoyed writing this.  
> If you spot any inconsistencies, let me know!


End file.
